


What Tomorrow May Bring

by MissReylo



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Goodbyes, Heavy Angst, Late Night Conversations, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 23:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18670570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissReylo/pseuds/MissReylo
Summary: Tomorrow he could die. This could be the last night the two of you spent together.Reader has a panic attack about an upcoming mission of Steve.





	What Tomorrow May Bring

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Remember, every panic attack is different. I based the way the reader experiences the panic attack on my own experiences to make it as realistic as possible, but it'll probably be a bit different from the way other people experience it! Please don't read this if reading about panic attacks is triggering. I hope you get the help you need, I know panic attacks really suck but it'll get better. Really.
> 
> Also, English is not my native language so bear with me here...

It's dark. Steve's sleeping next to you in bed, sighing and mumbling something under his breath sometimes. He's relatively quiet tonight. Sometimes he screams in his sleep. Or he tosses and turns, keeping you up all night. But no, this time his sleeping habits aren't the cause of your insomnia. The reason you can't sleep is the paralyzing fear of knowing that tonight could be the last night.

Steve's leaving tomorrow. Another mission. A dangerous one. Even he had seemed a bit worried. Normally he tried to comfort you, telling it was just a routine mission. He would make jokes, laugh about the people he was going with and what antics they would get up to. This time he hadn't wanted to talk about it, only heightening your fear.

It's stupid, you know that. It doesn't matter. He's going anyway and you worrying until it feels like you're going to throw up isn't going to change anything. Steve has to do this. You knew what you had signed up for when you got into a relationship with him. He would always... always put the safety of humanity before your relationship. He would never back down from a fight. His bravery, his never-ending goodness was something that you had admired in him. In the beginning, you had even admitted to him one amazing night that it made him unbearably sexy. Your hero, your good man.

Now? Now, not so much. You just want him to wake up and tell you it's going to be okay. You want to be reassured. But you realize he isn't going to wake on his own. And you're not going to wake him up. He needs his rest. He deserves it. He deserves to go on that mission as best prepared as possible. He needs you, smiling, telling him to go get the bad guys. He doesn't need a crying girlfriend, begging him not to go.

Get it together, Y/N, you tell yourself. You turn to Steve, looking at his profile. His strong jaw, his nose. You love lying next to him in bed. When the two of you fall asleep, you cuddle. But Steve always turns away from you once he's asleep. He needs his space. You want to reach over to him and touch him, scared that the cuddle from hours ago will be the last cuddle session you'll ever have. Slowly, you start breathing faster and you feel a bit dizzy. Your legs, god, you can't feel them anymore. You're almost floating. The only constant there is is the fear, the fear that he'll be gone, that you'll have to go to his funeral and that you'll have to watch as they lower his casket in the ground.

You're crying. You only realize it when the tears start trailing down your cheeks and start dripping on your chest. You gasp softly, trying to control your breathing but you're no longer in control of your body. It's a terrifying experience. You know what's happening, this is a panic attack, you know that this will pass, you know that you're not dying. It doesn't make it any less scary and humiliating, to have your brain turn against you.

"Honey?"

You start to sob. Steve's awake now, leaning over to you, softly stroking your cheek.

"Y/N? Sweetheart, talk to me, all right?"

You nod, trying to open your mouth to talk, but you can't. You just start crying louder. He's closer now, you realize, he's holding you in his arms, rubbing one hand over your back, pressing his mouth against your forehead.

"Hey. Hey. It's all right. It's all right, I'm here, it's going to be okay. Just breathe, honey."

You nod again. You really try to breathe more regularly and when you focus on Steve's breathing, which is easy because you're pressed against his chest, you start to calm down a bit. Slowly you can start to feel your legs again. You look at Steve's shirt. It's soaked from your tears.

"That's it. That's it. Keep breathing for me, Y/N. I'm here."

"Steve..." you whisper. "Steve..."

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm not leaving you."

That only hurts more. You try to wipe away the tears from your face. "I'm sorry, Steve. I didn't want to wake you. You can go back to sleep now. I'm fine."

He looks at you sternly. "Y/N. Do you think I'm going to sleep after this? Come on, let's sit up."

He helps you sit up, putting a pillow behind you for support. He turns on the light on the nightstand. He offers to get a glass of water for you, but you shake your head. You just want him to stay with you. To hold you.

"Want to talk about what just happened?" he asks you, pressing some kisses on your hair.

"Not really," you whisper. "I'll say something selfish..."

"Selfish?"

"I don't want you to go tomorrow."

He presses another kiss on your hair, close to your forehead. "Honey..."

"I know, it's not fair... I shouldn't say things like that. I know... I'm just really scared. I don't want you to die."

"I'm not going to die."

"You don't know that," you murmur.

"People die every day, Y/N. I could die from a car accident. I could go outside to get the mail and get hit by a falling tree."

You groaned. "That's not the same. People use that kind of arguments to get people to live their lives. What you're doing is putting yourself in the line of danger. And I get why. I get that you have to do that. That it's your duty. And you're going tomorrow. You shouldn't listen to me. You go out there and do what needs to be done."

You look at him, cupping his cheek. "You're my hero. An unbearably sexy hero." You giggle at that and then hiccup and sigh. You're still feeling a bit lightheaded from that heavy cry.

"Sweetheart," he whispers, looking at you with a pained expression. "I wish it was different."

"But it's not... So we just have to... I don't know, live with what we've been given. And not worry about what tomorrow may bring. Although, that's easier said than done," you say, more to yourself than him.

He doesn't say anything, so you lean over to him, kissing him. It's a soft press of your lips against his, nothing compared to the passionate making out sessions that happen regularly. But this... this is perfect. It's sweet. It's innocent. It's loving. It's an 'I got you' kiss, it's an 'I'll love you no matter what' kiss. When you pull away he wipes away the last traces of your tears and presses the top of your red, snotty nose.

"I wish I could promise you I'll get back alive," he says.

"I know."

"I'll do my best. I'll be with Natasha and Buck and you know those two love you, so they'll do everything in their power to keep me safe."

"Yeah, Bucky will keep you from doing all the reckless stuff," you giggle. "And Natasha can jump in and save your ass in case you ignore Bucky and still do the reckless stuff."

He smiles. "You know me too well."

The two of you talk for a bit. Eventually, you lay down again and the light is turned off. You bury your face in his neck, breathing in his scent. Your worries are still there, but right now you just focus on the way Steve feels next to you, the way he breathes, the way he's so utterly alive. You fall asleep holding his hand.

The next morning you put on a brave face and kiss him passionately. You help him pack his bags and make him a good breakfast. You watch as he shaves for the last time, hoping that he'll come back. You won't even complain about the stubble he'll have then. When he puts his stuff in the car and gets his coat, you ball your fists in your pockets. He comes over, cups your cheek and presses a kiss against your lips. 

"I love you," he tells you.

"Love you more," you say. "Good luck. Go get them, captain."

"You know I will, honey."

He gets in the car and drives away. As soon as you can't see the car anymore you feel the emptiness return.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a kudo and/or a comment! <3 Thank you!


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